Stirring up trouble - Jygust 30th TT - Open

[Brytan]

Jygust 30th - Early tradetide
Nether's Gate tavern

The day of the Summer Festival had arrived, along with many visitors to the city including a good number of nobility. Brytan had not had a lot of sleep the previous gravetide. News of arriving troops from the Baron of Foreno had kept him up wondering. Wondering what the meaning could be of the move made by the Provost's father. He doubted that they would stop the Pax Honestus from leaving. But when that happened the city would be without control, and the Provost without power.

Second option would be that the Provost would not want to lose control and needed a contingent of soldiers to step in when the Pax Honestus marched off through the portal. Brytan had faith that most soldiers would follow. Even the soldiers most loyal to the king were having second thoughts. He did not think he had reached everyone, but a good two thirds, maybe even three quarters of the men would walk out with Michel.

This posed a problem. A free Pax was the plan. Free being no longer under the thumb of the kingdom. The Provost was an extension of the kingdom in his current capacity. Would he truly attempt to take the city for himself with his father's men backing him up?

These thoughts coursed through the sergeant's head as he entered the tavern. He needed to get his information straight on these new developments. He had agreed to meet some of his men at the tavern before Michel arrived to brief them on their duties. He had not once worn the Pax Honestus colors while in the city, but his men and most of the guards would know who he was and under who's orders he operated. It would be crucial to maintain a low profile until the commander arrived so he had asked his men to meet him here after the morningtide rush in casual attire to discuss the security of the Portal square, aswell as to think about the report for Michel which he sat down to do. He picked a chair with his back to a wall so he could watch the doors into the common room and ordered a late breakfast. He hadn't eaten yet and a man can't think on an empty stomach.

[Ulder]

Since the Barons of Foreno, Murellbuck and Hulmnoy had already arrived in Pax yesterday, and the with arrival of Sebastian of Brie, and the lady from Killem'toh set to arrive at any moment, Ulder could feel the mounting tension tightening his gut.

The leader of the now stronger Swordmark had been very interested in the Provost's father, the Baron of Foreno, and his arrival with a contingent of soldiers. This action led Ulder's thoughts to unknowingly echo Brytan's on this matter. It seemed likely that the Baron of Foreno would try to annex a free Pax once he learned that the Honestus were standing down and returning to King's Court.

Now was the time when their final preparations were being completed. Nearly all of the players were in town, and there needed to be adjustments made based on the arrivals of the Barons, and the contingents they were bringing with them. To stay informed of how Michel and Brtyan were adjusting, he wandered over to the Nether's Gate to speak with Brytan, and stay abreast of any changes to the deployments of the men on what was sure to be a momentous day.

[Guido Cercatoro]

It was festival day and not surprisingly the Gate tavern was far busier than usual. Visiting traders were having a last meal before returning to their stalls; groups of youths were starting the day as they meant to go on, by downing large quantities of alcohol, and, the working girls of the tavern were already doing good business. The only unusual feature of the tavern was a virtually complete lack of the guardsman who usually frequented the inn.

The blond barmaid, whom Brytan knew to be called Rosie, soon brought him a breakfast of bacon rashers, eggs and beer. A few flickers later, one of Brytan’s key men in Pax arrived to join him. He was a rough-looking, unshaven fellow with unkempt fair hair who went by the name of Straw – whether this was his real name or derived from the colour of his hair he had never revealed. He went and came, was unseen for long periods of time, but always provided useful information. He nodded to Brytan, took an adjacent seat and ordered an ale.

As he entered the bar, Ulder would see Brytan and Straw sitting against a far wall of the tavern.

[Brytan]

Brytan winked at Rosie as she brought him his breakfast. "Lovely Rosie, as ever. And I'm not just talking about you." He took a few bites from his food, acknowledging Straw as he sat down with a nod of the head.

"Morningtide Straw, what's the word on the street?" It was usually the first thing he asked the man. Greatly proud of his independence Straw didn't like to take orders from anyone, or so Brytan had gathered. He did however know his value to the operation Brytan ran, as did Brytan, and as such he was treated. "Ale's on me. It's proving to be a busy day."

He continued to eat his meal as he awaited what news Straw would bring to the table. Not a few flickers shy of the next bite Ulder walked in. Brytan didn't notice him at first, nor did he acknowledge him when he did. He appreciated the frailty of the operation they were about to undertake. Unaware of Ulder's intention by visiting the inn, he listened and waited. As he always did.

[Ulder]

It seemed Brytan was having a conversation with another man, and the erstwhile soldier was experienced enough not to trample on a conversation uninvited. Ulder knew Brytan was something of a spy and a scout for Michel, and so a known association between the former Captain and Brytan could be dangerous to Brytan's cover. So after a mere glance over at the pair seated together, Ulder made his way over to whatever empty spot he could find in the crowded inn. Being alone might make that easier.

He ordered some food when it was his turn and as he waited for Brytan and the other man to finish, he pretended to be engrossed in fixing a buckle on his breastplate, as he listened to the conversations around him, trying to get a feel for the town's mood and timbre before the festival began.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Straw took a sip of his ale and sat back in his chair with a quiet sigh. “The streets are full or rumours. Probably the festival; people are excited – they spread rumours; they believe rumours and perhaps they act on them. It is difficult to separate fact from fiction.”

“Two rumours disturb me. A man I trust who was in the square the day the grey robes were there, claims he saw one of them in town; the man wasn’t in robes but my informant claims to remember his face clearly. He says that the fellow was wandering around by the festival field and barracks last even’tide. Just looking around. Might be nothing, of course.”

“Second, apparently the Baron of Foreno had a big argument with this son, the Provost, soon after he arrived. There’s no love lost between those two. Whatever Foreno is planning with those men he has in the valley, mayhap the Provost don’t like it. I’ve also heard that Foreno has a mage with him, a powerful one by reputation. Might just be a precaution but if you add it to his troops…well……it makes him a powerful force here..” Strwa scowled, rubbing one hand over his stubble.

“Aside from that, the only other piece of information worth reporting is that the Baron of Hulmnoy is apparently completely mad. Keeps babbling on about strange creatures taking over his dreams. Apparently his daughter is in charge of affairs in the estate.”

*************************************************************************

Ulder found a table close to a group of young achadhiel, who were talking animatedly amongst themselves. Most of the conversation revolved around the festival entertainment and which of the group was going to drink the most ale before even’tide. However, the conversation took a more serious turn with two of the group engaged in a fierce argument.

“…too timid he is, since he made that agreement with the Provost…”

“….no, he knows best, just biding his time, we’ll get the nod soon…”

“Keep it quiet, you fools,” intervened a third youth who appeared noticeably less drunk than the others. The conversation died down and then returned to discussion of the festival.

The meal soon arrived, brought by the ever-smiling blond barmaid, Rosie.

[Brytan]

Brytan continued to eat, watching Ulder take a seat elsewhere while listening to Straw's update from the streets.

"Gray robes in the streets might be trouble...Can't use any more riots what with the festival and all these high rollers in town." He took another bite. "Should have some extra guys posting by the grounds." He made sure to not be too obvious with his wording, but clear enough so anyone "in the know" would know exactly what he meant. "So the Provost and his daddy had words? That's an interesting tidbit indeed. Makes me wonder what side he'll be on when the shit hits the fan." The bit about the mage worried him. Magick never meant much good where he came from, nor did it anywhere else as far as he was concerned.

"Mages..." he didn't feel like concerning himself too much with it as it was. It was unlikely the Baron would try anything before the Honestus had backed off. Thus, it didn't truly concern him. In his mind he was thinking who best to put where, since he wanted to cover as many angles from the portal to the festival without spreading too thin. The last bite left his plate as he sat back to await the arrival of the others who would help him coordinate the covert part of the Honestus withdrawal. He needed faces in the crowd. And faces in the crowd he would have. He trusted his guys to come through for him.

[Ulder]

Ulder continued to keep to himself and eat, feigning interest in his plate and wondering if these men belonged to Savarak.

He stole another glance around, looking for familiar faces and to see if Brytan was still speaking with the other man. The scout was still having his conversation, and so Ulder just continued with his food and continued keeping to himself.

All in good time... Patience... Patience...

[Guido Cercatoro]

Straw nodded in response to Brytan’s request. “I’ll make sure we have a few men by the festival grounds on the lookout for any trouble. I’ll get on to it right away.” Downing his drink, he left. A man of few words, Straw: but reliable and sound. If he said he’d arrange it, it would be done. Strangely, there was no sign yet of any of Brytan’s other men. They were overdue – still that was nothing new – they were, after all, engaged in undercover operations.

Ulder continued to sit quietly but there were no further titbits of information revealed by the group of achadhiel youth – their cautious comrade appeared to have quietened them down and they returned to discussing the merits of various ales.

The tavern was beginning to get crowded. Amongst the new arrivals included a young lad who had the distinctive blue and yellow colours of Foreno embroidered on his jacket. He wandered over to the bar and tentatively asked for a drink, blushing a deep red colour as he was served by Rosie. A second distinctive newcomer was a short, fat halfling who waddled rapidly through the doorway in the direction of the bar. The halfling had a long white beard and wore an ornately decorated red and yellow robe. However, he held something more mundane - an empty tankard. He sported an enormously round belly that had the appearance of being the result of the copious consumption of alcohol.

[Brytan]

Brytan did not really respond to Straw's departing words. He knew the job would get done and that was sufficient. He did not really feel like blowing his cover just yet. His wearing the Honestus colors would wait until the festivities, and even then it would be guised by his regular travelling clothes.

The arrival of the newcomers triggered a moderate amount of interest with Brytan. Both of them seemed excellent marks, ready to divulge information at the drop of a considerate word or a filled tankard. Persuasion came in many forms, Brytan knew, and those two radiated their preferred form. The neon sign and big flashing red arrow were lacking, but that was about it.

With his mind on the mage topic, he pegged the halfling for a magick user, based purely on his stereotypical view of magick users wearing colorful robes and sporting long white beards. Along with the Foreno chap they might just be a couple of Foreno's men out for a drink before the show. He wondered what orders the soldiers had gotten, aswell as the potential of the mage.

He sought Ulder's eyes and locked with them when the man looked his way. A few brief hand gestures and a quick nod to the two colorful characters added to the message, a message a thief at least would understand; "Two marks by the bar, need to talk."

[Ulder]

Ulder did meet Brytan's gaze, but the hidden and subtle gestures of communication were completely lost on him. Ulder had experience with military hand signals, so he could see the attempt to communicate across the room, but the meaning of the gestures remained hidden and elusive.

He turned back to his meal. Either the scout would come get him, or the other man would depart and leave Ulder free to join Brytan at his table.

[Brytan]

"Dominicus...military men..."

For some reason Brytan had always stuck to the use of thief symbols when communicating silently with his men. Mostly because half of them were of the sneaky persuasion, and the other half picked up quickly enough. The few gestures Brytan had learned added to by the military symbols used in the field. He did not really feel like using those in here, the fairly large and obvious gestures would stand out like a fox in a hen house, so instead Brytan decided to pay Ulder a visit at his table, sitting down casually, taking his empty mug along and beckoning Rosie for a refill.

"Festival tonight, going to be big I hear." He picked up the conversation as if talking to a relative stranger. "Big crowd showing, hear the barons brought in some real magick to add to the spectacle after the main performance." He wasn't about to go spouting details in public unless he was certain Ulder was willing to risk it. He was hoping the man would pick up on the hint, and if not would not blow the "casual friendly banter" approach he was going for.

[Ulder]

Ulder's caution regarding Brytan and his men stayed in place even as Brytan himself came over to join him.

"Should be interesting." He replied truthfully and pointedly at first, and then grew a little more vague and conversational.

"Sounds like the Barons want to put on a big show. I didn't know they were going to do some magick tricks. That will probably be something interesting to watch. I'm looking forward to it."

[Guido Cercatoro]

Sands was one of Brytan’s best men. A tough veteran of many campaigns against the orcs and other enemies of the Kingdom. Good with a knife, ruthless when he needed to be - but also charming; and this made him a perfect undercover operative.

Now, his smile had gone. His face was drawn and pale, one hand clutching his side, where a sharp knife and been slipped in. He was still aggrieved at getting caught unawares but was determined to reach the Gate tavern, to perform what might be his final duty….to report to his boss…

As Ulder and Brytan talked, the door to the tavern flew open wide and in staggered a dark-bearded, solid-looking human whom Brytan would recognise as Sands. He attracted a few laughs and grins, for he had every appearance of being drunk. His eyes darted around, searching the tavern in desperation before alighting on Brytan. He took one step forwards before collapsing in a heap on the floor of the tavern.

[Brytan]

"Gods!"

Brytan had learned the hard way that calling out "By the One!" was a bad thing to do in a city filled with heretics. So he had quickly accustomed himself to shout something else...

He could not help but exclaim this as he saw Sands stagger in and collapsing on the floor. His masked conversation with Ulder forgotten, as casual as he would have chatted to a fellow customer, he rushed from his seat to the fallen soldier. His hands went for the man as he checked for injuries. He knew Sands was not the kind of guy to drink on the job, unlike most of the people here who didn't know him at all. A passing thought went to the potential onlookers and what they might think of his actions. He quickly went back to one of his best men, potentially bleeding out on the floor.

"What the Nether happened?" He whispered frantically as he searched for a wound and a means to stop the bleeding if he found one. Dominicus forbid he found one...

[Ulder]

In a normal situation, Ulder would have rushed forward to help the injured man personally, but he was well aware of the sensitivity of Brytan's mission and didn't want to endanger the man further than he already had by coming here.

He settled for distantly trying to find anything that would help bind any wounds and keep him alive. Ulder searched for something to use, a tablecloth, a dishtowel, anything he could find to tear into strips to stop any bleeding. He didn't see any blood or open wounds yet, but Ulder had seen enough of battle and combat to have some experience with the way men moved in pain.

He lost the conversation in the commotion and chaos and hoped Brytan would be able to fill him in later on what was happening.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Brytan quickly found the wound: a deep gash in Sands' side. The man had lost a lot of blood, too much. It was clear that he was likely to die without the immediate attention of a healer. Yet no-one came to his assistance, all presuming the man was merely drunk. Other than tearing his own clothes or those of the wounded man, Brytan could find nothing to assist in stemming the flow of blood.

“Didn’t take care of my back,” whispered the soldier in a ragged voice, the trace of a weak smile running over his lips. “They’re here in town …undercover,,,. slipping in with the traders…fore…..” He said no more, for his head lolled backwards and his breathing slowly subsided.

Ulder spotted a cloth on the side of the bar which might be of use in helping the wounded man, yet the leader of the swordmark could almost sense the stricken man’s life ebbing away.

[Brytan]

"Who, who is it? Who is undercover?" Brytan knew what was going on. Odds were Sands wasn't going to be around much longer. He could think of a number of people who might be in town working undercover like he was. "Foreno's men" was the first thing to jump to the fore front of his brain.

"For gods sake! Someone get a healer! The man is wounded!"

And then, in a louder voice than the whisper he had used before to communicate with Sands; "Stay with me man, for gods sake. Don't die on me."

"Someone the Nether get me a bandage or whatever! He's bleeding out!"

[Ulder]

At Brytan's call for a bandage Ulder sprang forward, grabbed the cloth on the bar and thrust it into Brytan's hand as quickly as he could.

He tried to keep people at bay so that Brytan had room to work to keep the man alive.

[Brytan]

Help came, not from an unexpected angle and rather swifter than he would have given any of the other bar patrons credit for. Brytan wasn't much of a soldier, but he knew that if you called out a wounded man in the field, one of two things would always happen;

1) Someone would actually listen to you and come to your aid. These were usually the experienced soldiers with more courage than common sense.

2) More often though, people would just start screaming and cause an upstart. Brytan had rather hoped both would happen so he would be able to keep Sands alive, aswell as covering his true relation to this man in the ruckus.

He took the cloth from Ulder and tried his best to stop the bleeding. He wasn't a medic so it didn't occur to him to cut open clothing or make a pressure bandage. All he cared about was stopping the bleeding long enough for someone who actually knew what he was doing to show up.

Either that, or until Sands breathed his last breath.

[Torc Blackfoot]

After all that had happened this morning Torc began to feel that he needed to relax before the festival. That’s when Torc decided to stop by the Nether’s Gate tavern. He hadn’t visted the tavern very much since that first day in Pax. It had come from the unspoken rule in taverns of the Mouth. If a mage chooses to do magic that’s fine, but a tavern is as holy as a church. For inside people expect food, drink, and laughter, not curses or magick shows. Of course, Torc hadn’t done anything wrong in the tavern, he had healed an injured man, and certainly the death would have hurt the ladies business even more. Still a mage, even a hedge mage, wasn’t to use magic inside.

So as opened the tavern door, he almost expected Rosie’s smile and welcome wave. Instead he found a man laying in front of him while another man was pressing so dirty rag to him. By the One, Torc thought, I can’t even stop for one drink without finding someone who needs help! Thank the One that I wasn’t looking for a woman to spend a mark with, because the whole tavern might be burning down! As Torc kneeled down to the man, he began to recognize the signs of lost of blood. Poison, broken bones, and disease were harder for Torc healing abilities. The difficulty came from the fact that Torc had learned the basics on the battlefield. Pan’s Isle had started him on a path that had change him in ways that he was just beginning to recognize and accept.

So Torc kneeled down briefly speaking to the man holding the rag, “I am Torc Blackfoot and I am the Healer.” Torc focus switched to the Aether so that he could better examine the man. Much had change since his original healing within this tavern.

Torc had come to realize that small micro wards should have been used to stop the bleeding. It was like a small patch of mud that sealed the great veins for a couple of burns, giving Torc enough time to create a scaffold with the energies of space and time. Torc had learned that inside of inefficient use of dumping massive amounts of healing energies into a man. That if he could a few burns length of time, he could view the past in which the flesh that was missing was whole again, and with that Torc could build a frame in which is healing magicks could regrow the tissue. In Torc’s mind the vision of tiny leaves stopping the blood from flowing out of the man were ready, small interlocking branches would create the framework for the man’s tissue, and a picture of sun light flowing into the man’s body would be the small amount of healing energies needed to regrow the tissue.

Torc prepared himself and started to inact his plan before the man died.

OOC: Hope you guys don’t mind me dropping in. Thought Torc could use a drink, and you guys could use the help.

[Guido Cercatoro]

The cloth that Brytan received from Ulder stemmed the flow of blood a little but, in truth, it would do little more than give the dying man a few extra flickers of life. Brytan’s shout had attracted more attention, for a silence had descended on the tavern with many pairs of eyes directed towards the stricken man. The red-haired tavern owner grabbed the hand of a nearby blonde barmaid and whispered a few words. The blonde scurried towards the tavern door only to run into the newly arrived Torc.

“Providence,” she muttered smiling at Torc. But Rosie needed to say no more, for the hedge-mage was already on his way to the stricken man. Astonished faces spun in Torc’s direction as he knelt beside Sands, for most knew of the mage by reputation, rumour or direct observation….

“…the healer…”

“..the mage..”

Torc prepared himself to heal in the tavern for the second time. The first had involved the strange Angelo who appeared to have been anchored in some way to the past. This time the mage’s venture into the aether was simpler; his vision sensed nothing binding the man to the past, nor any of the dark, dense strands of poison he had sensed whilst dealing with the boy in the healer’s shop. He sensed a clean, deep wound in the man’s side; a gaping chasm through which ran a deep red river ; life energy bleeding away, only partially stymied by Brytan’s rag.

Sands had fallen into a coma; silent apart from a few ragged gasps of breath.

[Ulder]

Ulder continued to try and keep people at bay, to give the men a chance to work. The whispers in the crowd caught his attention regarding the newcomer. It seemed this man was famous among the locals.

It was a decidedly fortunate turn of events for Brytan that his man might live. A mage and a healer were needed, and both appeared here and now in the form of the same man.

Savarak had said Foreno had a mage. Elvin had returned to the Citadel, but perhaps this young man would be willing to fight for the town's freedom personally.

For now he said nothing, and let them work uninterrupted.

[Brytan]

Brytan gave way to Torc's helping hand, moving out of the way for the man to get some room to work, without removing the piece of cloth or the pressure from the open wound. Whatever way he chose to do it did not matter much to the rogue, as long as he did. The words of the people around them did not go unnoticed by Brytan either, but he said nothing of it. One of his men was still bleeding, dying.

The arrival of this strange conjurer seemed almost too good to be true, yet he questioned not the ways of Dominicus and did as he would; tend to his own in favor of his life aswell as the information he might give him should he survive.

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc was glad that his focus was within the aether, it began to feel too much like the sisters of fate were having a good laugh. Torc a follower of the golden path believed in free oneself from destiny and fate, thereby allowing all pathways of time to open for anyone. So in part before Torc started his weaves, he had to wonder if this was fate and if it was would he be true to himself and oppose it even if a man must die. The answer mattered little; he couldn’t allow someone to die over an answer that would never come. The problem with the world was you didn’t know if it was all fate and free will was a myth, or the other way around. Torc simply knew that no man’s life should be just another thread in the loom of fate.

Torc began to weave his ward to stop the blood. The gaping chasm in which the knife had entered also contained a deep red river, filled in it was life energy and something dark in Torc wanted to take a deep drink from the river. However, Torc knew that once tasted his thirst for life would only grow deeper until it had destroyed the shell it inhabited. Torc began weaving the line of space and force into an artistic yet shrinking ward. Within the landscape of the aether, Torc saw his weave take on the form of beavers building a dam in the river. The beavers went into the river and dragging with them mud and logs. The mud and logs were small wards of force to stop the flow of blood and life energy. He saw beaver’s path up great holes in the chasm that spilled red liquid from them. He saw the beavers use their tails to slap wet mud, and then stuff twigs and leaves to strength the structure. As it continued on the river stemmed to a small stream then it was nothing more than a moist bank along the chasm.

As the beavers stood watch for more leaks, while Torc started to puck the threads of time in the man’s body. As Torc sensed the vibrations, the spectral image of where the walls of the great chasm once met showed in its contours. Torc could also see great rocks had once been in place between the walls, but now they were washed away from this place and would need to be replaced. Within the Tether, Torc moved his leaden hand pressing the flesh around the cut closed. In the aether the tree that was Torc had stood close to the edge, now felt the ground shudder and move closer to the other wall. The tree felt the sun beating down at the land and as it looked up into the sky Torc saw that the sun was all the people in the inn and small waves of life energy came off them. Gently the tree wove small life energies into its root system. Creating a great lattice of roots that would hold the chasm close and return it to its natural state.

In a way it was like taking loose hairs off people’s shirts and making a wig. Torc, didn’t need every hair on their heads and even when some of their hairs didn’t match, Torc twisted them to hold others in place. He knew that he was using just enough to help the dying man, and it wouldn’t affect anyone else. So as the energy was converted and formed the living web of roots where the hole of missing rock once stood, bundles of roots filled with healing energy would knit the man whole once more.

As Torc watched the response to his weaves, he examined the man to see if simple rest and water would be enough, or if he needed to do more.